Peter Paul Rubens The Crucified Christ painting

Peter Paul Rubens The Crucified Christ painting
John William Godward Under the Blossom that Hangs on the Bough painting
kept it down--sometimes I forgot it-- but sometimes it would surge up and take possession of me. I hated you because I envied you--oh, I was sick with envy of you at times. You had a dear little home--and love--and happiness--and glad dreams--everything I wanted--and never had--and never could have. Oh, never could have! That was what stung. I wouldn't have envied you, if I had had any hope that life would ever be different for me. But I hadn't--I hadn't--and it didn't seem fair. It made me rebellious--and it hurt me--and so I hated you at times. Oh, I was so ashamed of it--I'm dying of shame now--but I couldn't conquer it.
That night, when I was afraid you mightn't live--I thought I was going to be punished for my wickedness--and I loved you so then. Anne, Anne, I never had anything to love since my mother died, except Dick's old dog--and it's so dreadful to have nothing to love--life is so empty--and there's nothing worse than emptiness-- and I might have loved you so much--and that horrible thing had spoiled it--"